


Drifting

by loves_books



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You have to wake up. It’s been three days already.” </p><p>After a brutal attack leaves James lying unconscious in hospital, all Robbie can do is talk to him and hope that James can hear him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finished the first draft of this story a couple of months ago, just before Divingforstones posted her wonderful story 'Threshold'. Any similarities between her story and this one are purely coincidence - it seems we really did both come up with the same idea at the same time, completely independently. Thanks to Divingforstones for being so encouraging when I asked her about it.
> 
> With grateful thanks to Willowbrooke for being my beta reader - any remaining mistakes are entirely mine, since I've tinkered with this since it was returned to me.
> 
> Please note the warning - the attack has already happened but is described in some detail. 
> 
> Also, not Series 8 compliant - James is still Robbie's sergeant here.

“I know you’re tired, James. I’m sure, after everything you’ve been through, that you just need a rest before you open your eyes again. But I’d really appreciate it if you could see your way to waking up some time soon. Selfish of me, perhaps. But wake up. Please, just wake up.”

He did want to wake up, more than anything. It just seemed easier, somehow, to keep drifting in the darkness. It was warm there, and safe. Free of pain, more importantly. James didn’t remember everything that had led to him sleeping, but he remembered it had hurt.

“I’m holding your hand right now, James. Can you feel it? You feel warm enough, at least. That’s something I suppose. I’m here, lad. I’m right here and I’m holding your hand, and I’ll keep you safe this time, I promise.”

He couldn’t feel it, though he wished he could. James knew from memory that Lewis’s hands were big and strong, and he knew they would indeed keep him safe. But his body was numb, and he felt nothing – he tried to flex his fingers, to reassure Lewis that he was awake and listening to every word he said. But the effort exhausted him and he drifted back into that warm darkness, trusting that Lewis would keep him from drifting away entirely.

“Laura was here, James, and she sends her love. I hope you heard her; I know she was talking to you, telling you all the gossip. Innocent’s been asking after you as well, and the whole team wants you back just as soon as you wake up. You have to wake up. It’s been three days already.” 

James hadn’t heard Laura. Hadn’t heard anyone but Lewis, actually. One time when he drifted back, he thought he was alone, before soft snores reached his ears – it could only be Lewis, asleep close by. Was Lewis staying with him, wherever they were? That was nice, James thought, before drifting away once more.

* * *

“They say your leg will heal up nicely. A good clean break; didn’t even need pins. And they’ve got that infection under control now; you’re barely running a fever at all, finally.”

Each time the doctors left his bedside, Lewis would update James on his injuries, and he knew how bad the pain should have been. The older man would always pause before continuing, his voice angry and yet softer at the same time.

“If I ever get my hands on those bastards who did this to you… The bastards who cut you like that, threw you into that filthy basement. A miracle you’re even still alive, lad. I’m so lucky you’re alive. I’m so glad. And I’m so sorry.”

James could only listen as Lewis told him about the knife wounds on his stomach and back, and about the deep bruising on his chest. Distantly, he felt horror at what had seemingly been done to him, though the pain was thankfully still far away and the memories vague. Cracked ribs to go along with his broken leg, apparently. And then there was his head, of course.

“A cricket bat of all things. God, I hope you don’t remember that when you wake up, James. I hope you don’t remember how they beat you and cut you, and how they took you from me and they hurt you.”

He remembered parts of it, but not everything. He didn’t want to remember everything. He did remember being taken, being separated from Lewis and hit by something heavy. The rest was only flashes – a dark basement, taunting voices, and pain. Only the memory of pain, where his world now should have been full of nothing but agony. Instead there is peace, and James drifts on and on as Lewis talks, his voice soothing and calming.

* * *

“You need to wake up soon. Been over a week now; you can’t be that tired, surely. The doctors tell me your skull fracture isn’t that serious, though even the thought of it… And they tell me the swelling has gone right down now. No new bleeding on your brain. No reason you aren’t waking up. Please, James, please. Wake up soon.”

He does want to. James hates hearing that note of worry in Lewis’s voice, knowing the worry is over him. He hates not remembering it all, and he wants to wake up, for Lewis, but the longer he drifts, the harder it seems.

“We got the last of them today, James, with Peterson leading the team. That’s the last, pet. All seven of the gang who snatched you away from me, all behind bars. I hear this last guy might’ve had an accident on the way to the station – arrived with a nasty black eye, apparently. Innocent wasn’t best pleased, but compared with what they did to you…”

Had there really been seven of them? He doesn’t remember. Shadowy faces, nothing more. He could wake up now, perhaps, now they’ve all been caught. It’s so hard, though, and Lewis sounds so far away, and James is so warm and so peaceful. 

* * *

“Ten days now. You’re scaring me a bit, James, and you know I don’t get scared easily. They’re talking about moving you, but if you’d only wake up, I’d take you home with me and look after you meself. I hope you know that. I’d never let you out of my sight again, if you’d only wake up and just be okay. You have to be okay, James, you have to. I’ll never forgive myself if you aren’t okay.”

Was Lewis blaming himself? James might not remember exactly what had happened, but he did remember it had been no one’s fault but the gang who had taken him. He longed to wake up, to tell Lewis he wasn’t to blame. He found himself drifting closer to the other man’s voice, fighting sleep. Trying to wake up.

“Please, love. I never realised ‘til now just how much I need you by my side. I never realised… I’m not good with the words, James, but I never knew how much I loved you until now, when they tell me you might not wake up. But I do. Love you, I mean. And I’ll never give up on you, never stop talking to you. Wake up, love, please.”

Love. Lewis loved him. And for the first time, James could feel the older man’s hand wrapped around his own. Could hear the soft beeping and smell the antiseptic that told him he lay in a hospital bed. Could feel the first twinges of agony as he slowly became aware of his body once more, though he pushed the pain down as well as he could.

“James? Can you hear me?”

And James found his strength, and opened his eyes at last.


	2. Chapter 2

“I could hear you, y’know? Not all the time, not everything you said, but I could hear you. The sound of your voice. The words you said to me… the things you told me.”

Of course Robbie had spoken to James. He’d talked for hours and hours, until his voice had grown hoarse. How could he possibly have sat in silence and not spoken a word to him, all those long days and nights? He’d known it wasn’t enough, known it could never make up for the fact that those injuries had all been his fault – but it had been all he could do. 

“You told me to wake up. Told me I had to come back to you. I don’t remember hearing anyone else’s voice, though you said Doctor Hobson was there. Only you. I only ever heard you.”

He’s healing now, finally, Robbie’s James. On the road to recovery at last, all those dark bruises fading to yellow, and broken bones starting to knit together. Still drifting in and out of consciousness, but that’s to be expected. Lucid moments followed by hours of sleeping. Sleeping, rather than being comatose, which is an important distinction. And when he’s sleeping, he isn’t in pain. Robbie hates seeing the hurt still there in James’s dark eyes, knowing the crippling headaches the younger man has been suffering from since he opened his eyes.

* * *

“You’re still here. You should go home, Sir. Sleep in your own bed for once. I know you slept here in the room with me, at least for some of the time. Couldn’t see you, obviously, but I heard you. You snore, Sir. Just a little bit.”

He’d barely left James’s room at all that first week, feeling it had been his duty to keep watch. After that, Laura and the ICU doctors had conspired to throw him out of the unit every evening, though Robbie had always been back at first light. The least he could do for his awkward sod, after letting him get snatched away and hurt so badly. Three long hours the gang had James in their clutches. Those had been the longest three hours of Robbie’s life. He’s incredibly glad James seems to remember very little of it.

“Did you really hold my hand, Sir? I couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel any of it, actually. It didn’t hurt – I could remember that something was meant to be hurting, that something or someone had hurt me, but while I was drifting there was no pain. I wanted to feel you holding my hand, though. I wished I could feel that.”

Robbie is holding James’s hand right now, of course, as he drifts back to sleep once more. He’s barely been able to tear himself away since the younger man finally blinked his eyes open three days ago, after lying in a coma for nearly two weeks. James had managed to focus on Robbie for a blessed second, smiled a weak yet bright smile, and then had fallen back into a more natural sleep. His recovery has been slow yet steady so far, with things never as simple as they appeared on the telly – James only found his voice this morning. Dry, croaky, rough. The sweetest sound Robbie has ever heard.

* * *

“I remember what you said – Did you mean it, I wonder? I thought I must have dreamed it, when you said that. Or that I heard you wrong. Misunderstood. I was trying to wake up, then, trying not to just drift away. Had to tell you it wasn’t your fault, and ask if you meant it. I didn’t think you could possibly have meant it, not really.”

Robbie has been sleeping, hunched over in the uncomfortable hospital chair, and he surfaces now to hear James speaking to him softly. He keeps his eyes closed, though, and his body relaxed as if still asleep. He isn’t ready to have this conversation, not yet. James is the one squeezing his hand now, as tightly as he possibly can – there’s a long road still ahead of him, weeks or even months of physical therapy and rehab, but the doctors all say he will make a full recovery in time. Robbie still finds he can’t believe how lucky they are. Just as he can’t believe James really heard what he’d said, the words he can’t quite believe he’d actually said out loud. The feelings of love he never realised he had for the younger man, though it all seems so painfully obvious to him now, in hindsight.

“I wish I could talk to you about this when you’re awake, though I don’t think I dare. I guess some things really are easier to say out loud when you’re sure the other person can’t hear you. Do you really love me? How can I possibly ask you that? But, I do hope you meant it.”

He meant it, means it still, with all his heart. He loves James. He’s in love with James, though he’d never meant for James to hear, not like that, and Robbie’s heart grows cold with fear even as he carefully keeps his breathing steady. He had been desperate by the time he’d realised what James truly meant to him, the doctors talking about moving the unconscious man to a long-term care facility, saying they didn’t know when or if he would ever wake up.

“You look younger when you sleep, Robbie. So relaxed, so carefree. I can be honest with you when you’re asleep, I suppose. The odds of you hearing me in the way I heard you are so small as to be practically non-existent. I can tell you honestly that I really hope you meant what you said to me, and that you might say it again someday.”

He’d meant every word, and so much more as well. Robbie can’t believe that it has taken such terror to wake him up to the depth of his own feelings. That terror is still present, only now there is a new fear that James can’t possibly feel the same way, in spite of his words. That rejection and humiliation are imminent. James’s fingers tighten around his own as their hands rest together on the bed, and it takes everything Robbie has not to squeeze back and give himself away.

“That’s what stopped me drifting, you know. Even if you didn’t mean it, even if I dreamt it. Even if you said it but regret it now, that’s what brought me back. So thank you, for everything. For staying with me, for talking to me, for holding my hand when I couldn’t feel it. Thank you for giving me a reason to come back.”

Is James really thanking him? Robbie can barely believe what he’s hearing. He doesn’t regret saying the words, not for a second. If anything, he regrets not saying something sooner; regrets not realising what James was to him, before James had been snatched away from him by that gang and beaten so badly. Robbie should never have let that happen. His fault. James was, and still is, his responsibility. His to protect and nurture. And he’d failed. Now, Robbie is glad he is still feigning sleep, since he doesn’t think he could look the injured man in the eye, though James’s next whispered words steal his breath away.

“I feel the same, just so you know. I love you too, I mean. Have done for a long, long time. But if it makes you feel better, then I can pretend I only dreamed that you were talking to me. And on the off-chance you can hear me now, you can pretend I’m only saying all this because of these wonderful drugs in my IV. We can go back to the way things were – nothing has to change. I don’t want to risk losing you.”

Robbie asks himself if he does want that, for things to go back to the way they were. And the answer is no. No, he wants James, wants to be with James, to protect him, to love him – but it can’t start like this, surely, not with Robbie as the reason that James almost…

“I know you blame yourself for what happened to me. I wish I could convince you it wasn’t your fault. I don’t remember it all but I know it happened fast. Too fast for you to have done anything differently. There were too many of them. It wasn’t your fault, not for a second. It wasn’t your fault, Robbie. You were the one who found me, after everything. I do remember that. And you saved me. And I do love you.”

James’s words lift a heavy weight from Robbie’s shoulders, though in his heart he knows it will take some time before he can truly forgive himself. Perhaps he really had done everything he could. The memory of finding James so broken in that basement, barely breathing and covered from head to toe in blood, will haunt him for the rest of his life. But James is alive, against all the odds, and he is awake, saying he loves Robbie right back. And Robbie takes a deep breath, squeezing James’s hand tightly in his own as he opens his eyes and sits up straighter in his chair.

“You were awake? You… could you hear me? Oh, God, I would never have said anything, never have put you in that position, unless – ” 

Throat tight with emotion, Robbie lets the smile that splits his face be his only answer, and the younger man seems to run out of words. He looks at James’s face, at his sleepy eyes and pale cheeks, and he leans closer, bringing his free hand up to carefully cup the side of that battered and bandaged head. James smiles up at him, tentatively, hopefully.

“You do love me? I hoped so. I wanted it to be true…”

Robbie kisses James gently, on the lips. And James smiles into the kiss, and kisses him right back.


	3. Chapter 3

After spending so long with his leg in a heavy plaster cast, then so much longer wearing the brace and using crutches, James still finds that he savours the simple pleasure of standing on his own two feet. He could sit, of course, while he eats his toast and finishes his coffee, but he’d much rather stand by the sink and look out of the kitchen window at their tiny garden. The first hints of green leaves can be seen on the bare branches, though the lawn is still little more than a brown patch of mud.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” A strong pair of arms twine themselves around James’s waist, and he leans back instinctively into Robbie’s welcome embrace. “Time’s getting on. You nearly ready, love?”

James smiles, draining the last of his coffee and, placing the mug carefully by the sink before taking hold of Robbie’s hands, pulls the older man’s arms further around his middle. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he murmurs, as Robbie rocks them both gently in place. “It’s been a long time coming. Back to normal at long last.”

It has been a long time coming – almost six months, now, since that fateful day when James had been attacked. He’d spent the first month in the hospital after waking from his coma, then the next two on extended medical leave as his injuries slowly continued to heal. Two more months on light duties while he went through seemingly endless physical therapy for his broken leg, and now, finally, he’s been given the all-clear to return to full duties.

“Finally I can have you all to myself, twenty four hours a day and seven days a week.” James can hear the smile in Robbie’s voice just before he feels Robbie shift behind him, standing on tiptoes, as a warm kiss is pressed to the nape of his neck. He hums appreciatively, though they really will be late if this goes any further. “No more stand-ins. Not one of them can hold a candle to my brilliant sergeant.”

While James has been confined to the office on desk duties, Robbie has been working out and about as normal. A string of DCs and DSs have been assigned as his bagmen, each gaining a few weeks of valuable experience, but thankfully there was never any talk of making one of them permanent. James has tried desperately not to be jealous each time he’s watched Robbie leave the office with a keen young detective bouncing at his heels, and for the most part he’s succeeded – he’s the one Robbie has been coming home to, after all. The one who wakes up each morning wrapped safely in Robbie’s arms.

“Flattery, my dear Inspector, will get you everywhere.” James turns now in Robbie’s grasp, lifting his own arms to drape over broad shoulders as Robbie’s hands slip down to rest over James’s lower back, their bodies pressed closely together. James can see now that Robbie is already fully dressed in his suit and tie, ready to head out, while James is still in his shirt sleeves and socked feet, jacket and shoes waiting in the living room. He lowers his head as Robbie stretches up again, and their lips meet in a brief yet loving kiss. “I really should finish getting ready.”

But Robbie’s arms tighten again around his waist when James tries to move away. “We’ve got a bit of time yet, pet,” he says with a smile, stealing another kiss. “All the time in the world, now you’re finally okay.”

“I’m okay,” James tells him softly, for the thousandth time. “I’m really okay.” He’ll say it over and over again, willingly. He knows Robbie still blames himself a little for what happened all those months ago, even though the official police enquiry had found no one was at fault, and the court case had ended with all seven members of the gang who had attacked James behind bars for a number of years.

The frown that appears on Robbie’s brow tells James his thoughts are exactly right, though it vanishes again in barely a second, to be replaced by a wide smile. “I know you’re okay. Still can hardly believe it all, though. You’re not in any pain?”

“No more pain, I promise.” James kisses Robbie again, harder this time, happy when those strong arms lock tighter around his waist and pull their bodies flush against each another once more. When the kiss ends this time, he rests his forehead against Robbie’s and whispers, “I can hardly believe it all, either.”

“What, you mean this? Us?” At his nod, Robbie laughs softly. “Daft sod. If I haven’t made you believe it yet, then I’ve got some work to do. When we get home tonight, I’ll show you again just how much I love you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” They stand together for another few moments, just smiling at each other, before reluctantly separating; James doesn’t want to be late for his first full day back, after all, and they’re both aware how closely they will be monitored for the first weeks. Not that they have any real concerns over keeping their new relationship hidden, since they’ve always been an unusual pair of detectives. James is confident they can both keep their personal and professional lives separate. “I love you, Robbie.”

“Love you too, James. Now, go get your shoes on, Sergeant.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

As James moves off to obey, the ringing of a mobile phone suddenly fills the air, and they share a wry smile as Robbie answers, “Lewis. Where?” James shoves his feet quickly into his shoes and shrugs on his jacket, snatching up the car keys. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. No, I’ll let Sergeant Hathaway know. Thanks.”

Straight back to business as usual, apparently, and with one last kiss they are out of the house and off to another crime scene. And James wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
